


Two of Each

by widowbitesandhearingaids



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, for Stevie, i just love furiosa okay, she's so fucking phenomenal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widowbitesandhearingaids/pseuds/widowbitesandhearingaids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a drabble about the days after the Wives take the Citadel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of Each

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stevie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevie/gifts).



It’s the walls. Furiosa has been trying for weeks now, for months, to put her finger on exactly what it is about the Citadel that so unnerves her. It’s not the memory of Immortan Joe – that was scrubbed away within days of their arrival. It’s not the War Pups, now called the Sons, running amok and generally causing havoc. It’s not the heights.

It’s the walls. They’re too…solid. Everything in the Citadel is rooted down, hard and concrete. Everything lays still and quiet, happily unmoving. It makes Furiosa’s skin crawl. More than once, she’s snuck out in the middle of the night to sleep in her beloved Rig, turning on the engine and immediately falling asleep with the machine humming beneath her. Everything is different now that the Wives are in charge – everything is better. So much better. And for the first weeks, in the swirl of activity; establishing new leadership, watering the Wastelands, freeing the slaves and prisoners that Immortan Joe had collected over the years, Furiosa thought that she might have a place in this new order. In those weeks, everything was moving, active, exciting. She was never still, and even though the Citadel itself is immobile, she wasn’t for more than a moment at a time. But now, with Capable and Toast at the helm, everything has settled into a set of routines. Everyone wants to meet the Rogue Imperator, the one who returned the Wives and killed Immortan Joe. No matter how hard she tries to beg it off, the people shout her name, and Furiosa is paraded around like some kind of trophy herself. She even had a new arm for the appearances. She wears it when she has to, but Furiosa can’t help noting the different weight in the new arm, and notes that there’s no way she’d be able to shoot or drive with this one. It’s not functional; it’s decorative. Just like her.

Still, Furiosa tries to put on a good face for the Wives – her sisters. She gardens with the Dag and Cheedo, sits in on council meetings when she’s asked. And jumps at any and every chance to get back on the road, which are few and far between. They need her at the Citadel. And Furiosa understands, she does, but the immobility is curdling her blood, turning her bones to stone. The damn walls are slowly but surely turning her into one of them. She finds herself wishing that something horrible will happen that will send her back out into the Wasteland, armed to the teeth, piloting her War Rig. She isn’t meant to live like this. Even in the Green Place, she and her Many Mothers never stayed still for long. She was always running, playing, riding motorcycles and daring the other children to races and competitions. The other Wives, they’re a different breed entirely. The only one who came close to understanding her anger, her restlessness, the rage that gave Furiosa her name, was Angharad. Toast comes close, but she’s at home at the head of the Citadel, and with Capable by her side, she’s going to make a great leader. They’re going to go down in history, all of them. And history is going to write of the Road Warrior Furiosa, who one day became one with the walls of the Citadel and never moved again.

“Furiosa,” the Dag’s voice comes from behind her one day when she’s hitching on her decorative arm. She turns to see all four of them in her doorway, obviously standing in order to hide something behind their backs.

“I’m coming, sorry, I’m still not used to – ”

“Take it off,” Toast says. “You can’t drive with that arm anyway.” They all grin as Cheedo reveals Furiosa’s old wheel, one she hasn’t driven with in months.

“You’ve done so much for us,” Capable says. “But you belong on the Fury Road.”

“But – ” Furiosa starts before they cut her off all at once.

“Go.” Cheedo says, sounding perilously close to tears. “Go take on the Road again. Find Max and give him our love.”

“And come back and visit your sisters sometime,” the Dag adds. “Take this.” She hands Furiosa a bit of plantlife in a clay pot. “For your dash. To remember us.” Furiosa sweeps them all into a lopsided hug, feeling several sets of tears wet her clothing.

“I’ll never go where I won’t see a flare,” Furiosa promises and within thirty minutes, she’s back on the road.

She drives for nearly twenty hours, feeling the air rush through the cab and red dust sneaking its way back onto every inch of her skin. Though there’s no need, she coats her forehead in engine grease, turning the skin blackish-blue. It feels good, like putting back on armor she never noticed taking off.

One night, Furiosa wakes, hearing the rumble of a vehicle approaching hers, and grabs her gun before she recognizes the car. A V8 Interceptor.

“If it isn’t Fool,” Furiosa says, seeing a familiar madman step onto the sand. Max shuffles and shrugs and somehow, without either of them saying so, they start driving together. Sometimes they kick up trouble, but mostly they move to move, two wanderers wandering together in amicable silence. When she goes back to her sisters, Max is always waiting for her in the Waste, and Furiosa knows that she will always have a place at the Citadel.

And somehow Imperator Furiosa, daughter of the Many Mothers, who was stripped of her home and her family, has two of each.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make my day
> 
> i'm on tumblr! widowbitesandhearingaids.tumblr.com


End file.
